The Atlantean Affair
by MLaw
Summary: Napoleon and Illya are off to Greece to investigate Thrush's interest in a 2,000 year old device called the 'Antikythera Mechanism." Will myth become reality?  Very minor ref. to saga-series but can be read as a stand alone, so not included in saga
1. Chapter 1

The mediterranean sun blazed down unmercifully; the heat draining the energy from the two men as they pulled in the sails on the yacht named the Nereid Thetis. The waters were unusually still, enough to let the boat drift aimlessly on the clear aqua-blue waters of the Aegean without concern. There wasn't a cloud in the sky nor even a breeze, turning the water into an immense mirror reflecting 'i chrysí sfaíre tou Apóllona_the golden orb of Apollo' with near blinding intensity.

A young, dark haired man named Aeneas dropped the anchor leisurely into the water creating a small splash, sending ripples across the smooth surface, catching the interest of a small group of grey dolphins that broke the surface gently, releasing a spray of water from their blow-holes as they swam close to the boat.

The Thetis would stay anchored there, just off the shore near the village of Fira on the crescent shaped island of Santorini situated south of the Greek Cyclades Islands of Ios and Anafi.

Villas dotted the island's steep cliffs, made of typical white Cycladic design with blue painted window trims that faced the black volcanic rock of the caldera of what was once a volcano that had collpased into itself, then filled with the waters of the Aegean. The high escarpments that remained, ranging from 150 to 300 metres in height, offering a spectacular view of the caldera to those hearty enough to make the climb.

A slightly built, fair-skinned blond finished tying off the sails. He was dressed only in a pair of tight-fitting white bathing trunks and a t-shirt to hide the numerous scars that covered his torso. He wiped the sweat from his brow with it, passing on applying sunscreen as he seated himself in a deckchair, lifting his dark glasses to rest them on his forehead, revealing eyes that were nearly the color of the sea that surrounded them.

Though he had been a wanted man in Greece only a year ago; it was now no longer of concern him; for someone else, someone more deserving of punishment had had been captured and executed for the assassination he had been assigned to carry out; felt no guilt as the man mistaken for him was not licit, having been a member of the military who had murdered and tortured countless innocents in the name of the junta that now ruled the country.

But erring on the side of caution; he remained onboard the boat, waiting while his American partner went to meet the men who had contacted U.N.C.L.E. only a week ago.

He lowered his sunglasses, sighing contentedly; grateful that there was no seasickness today as he leaned back in the chair leaving only the extreme heat for him to contend with. To any other boat passing by he would have looked like a pale tourist working on his tan, but he was in reality watching the shoreline intently from behind his sunglasses. When no one was near, he would periodically lift a small pair of binoculars, carefully scanning the distant cliffs and the shoreline.

Aineas spoke as the blond looked through the binoculars again.

"Min anisycheíte eínai me to Spyros kai Hektor aftós tha ei nai mia chará_don't worry. He's with Spyros and Hektor, he'll be fine."

"Eímai anisychoún gia tous_I am worrying about them. Napoleon has a habit of attracting trouble at times. And that trouble is usually the kind that sneaks up behind you; it pays to remain vigilant.

Illya watched until he saw a small motor boat carrying his partner and the two archaeologists leave the pier at Gialos Port, heading towards the yacht.

Napoleon Solo had met with the two men, sitting at a table in front of a small taverna in Fira, ten kilometres southwest of their archaelogical site on the outskirts of Akrotiri, the ancient Minoan settlement not far from the famed red beach of Santorini.

The sign above the establishment crudely hand lettered named the place, 'O Chaménos Adelfós_The Lost Brother.' It made Solo feel uneasy as it reminded him that he and his partner were separated. He did not like the idea of not having Illya in close proximity to watch his back, and conversely for him to watch Illya's as well.

The heat of the day was even getting to Solo, though usually he was as cool as a cucumber, as the saying goes. It was his partner who really suffered in unseasonable temperatures such as this, given his penchant for cooler climates, due to his Russian blood. Though he knew there were blond blue-eyed Greeks, Napoleon had yet to see one; giving all the more reason for Illya to lay low as his pale features would make him too conspicuous right now. He would need his partner to make a more obtuse appearance once the Thrush involment had been verified.

Hektor Michaelides and Spyros Giannapolous became concerned when their latest research brought them unwanted interest from a man identifying himself as a member of T.H.R.U.S.H. claiming to have helpful information in their search for a very rare antiquity.

Their contemporary, Professor Marinatos concentrated his efforts on the official dig at Akrotiri while Hektor and Spyros had ventured off on their quest southwards in search of a legendary grotto where many rare items of historical and scientific nature are purported to lay hidden for centuries.

"I remembered Nickó, I mean...Illya having mentioned the name TH.R.U.S.H. when last we met," Hektor said to Napoleon, " telling me that they were an evil organization bent on world domination. At the time my only concern was the evils being committed by the junta but when this man approached us, I became very nervous and contacted your organization. He does not know we have found the grotto and we have been directing his attentions closer to Akrotiri. We have let him think that is still our focal point."

Sypros poured them each a rather large helping of ouzo as an old woman brought them a mezé plate full of stuffed grape leaves, fresh wholemeal bread, spanikoptia, hummus, Greek olives, and feta cheese.

"What exactly did he say to you Hektor?" Napoleon asked, spooning a mouthful of the spinach pie, savoring it's flavor while the man spoke to him. He realized amusedly that his always hungry partner was missing out on some great food.

"He offered only his services, with but one caveat," Hektor said, "in exchange he wanted to be the first to be able to examine the device if found, and nothing more.

"That's what he wants you to think," the agent whispered. "Once he gets his hands on what he wants, you and Spyros would be dead men. He's using you to do the work for him because he can't get permits to do it himself and it's too risky to have an illegal dig in operation. I think that you two should come back to the yacht with me. Your friend Aeneas is waiting with Illya, we can speak a little more privately there."

Just then Hektor's attention was drawn away as he glanced past Napoleon's shoulder.

"What's wrong?" Solo asked, catching the concerned look in the Greek's eyes.

"Napoleon, he is coming our way."

"Alright, let me do the talking; I'm with the antiquities department of the Metropolitan Museum of Art and we're funding your dig." he quickly whispered.

"Kaló apóbevma synádelfoí. Epitrépste mo mazí sas_Good afternoon gentlemen. May I join you? " a man spoke as he stood behind Solo."

"Parakaloú me na to práxoun_please do." Hektor said, "May I introduce..."

"Vaughn, James Vaughn, of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York...antiquities department." Napoleon interjected, offering his hand to the man.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance Mr. Vaughn." he spoke, switching to English. "I am Dr. A. Stavros Stronghilos and am an extremely interested party in the work of these men. Department of antiquities you say?" The scarred man with an eye patch, dressed in a white linen suit returned Solo's gesture, offering his hand in return.

"Yes, the Metropolitan has consented to fund the dig for the rest of the season for these two fine men of science. We are quite excited about their work."

"As am I Mr. Vaughn. I hope you don't think me brash, but you are aware of Greece's policies regarding their antiquities and outsiders?"

"But of course, "Napoleon spoke confidently. "we at the Metropolitan have no designs on their discoveries; we merely wish to assist in their efforts and hope perhaps one day when Greece eases it's policies; that the finds from Thera might someday be loaned to us for an exibit on the Minoan civilization."

"Ah so there are good intentions then, most commendable...perhaps you and I might discuss things further Mr. Little. Would you care to have dinner with me at my villa this evening? It would be a pleasure to have an opportunity to speak English as I have so little chance to use it of late. And the company of such a cultured and educated man as yourself would be a pleasure."

"Why thank you Dr. Stronghilos, I would be delighted."

"Excellent, shall we say seven then? These young men can tell you were it is." Kaliméra_good day."

Napoleon sighed in relief, thankful that he had actually paid attention to Illya when he had launched into his lecture about Thera and Atlantis. He reminded himself to pick his partner's brain for more information before heading to Stronghilos' villa, as he and his companions headed back to the Nereid Thetis.

Hektor and Spyros greeted Illya with great enthusiasm as the boarded the yacht after Napoleon, that included bear hugs and kisses to each cheek.; both happy to find their Russian friend was well.

A week earlier Kuryakin and Solo sat with Alexander Waverly in his conference room, discussing a call received from Hektor Michaelides, a friend Kuryakin had made on a previous and near disastrous mission to Greece.*

"Mr. Kuryakin we have been doing some research into the man your friend has called to our attention. He has been identified as Dr. Adolph Starke, a known member of Thrush and their scientific community, he is goes by several other noms de plume... Stavros Stronghilos, Stavros Strong, Adolph Strong."

A photograph of a man with dark hair, a black eye patch and a jagged scar along his jawline came into focus on the video screen mounted on the wall in Waverly's control panel alcove.

"There's a classic looking baddie if ever I saw one, " Solo mumbled under his breath to his partner who as usual, was concentrating on a file in front of him; jotting down copious amounts of notes.

"You have something to share Mr. Solo?"

He smiled innocently. "No, not at the moment sir."

"Then if I may continue. Starke's biological father was a Nazi officer and his mother a Greek national, he being the result of a relationship between the two during the German occupation of Greece. He is known for his specialty in computers so his presence at the dig in Santorini is rather surprising given antiquities, to say the least are out of his area of expertise."

"Michaelides clearly indicated to me that he was inquiring as to their recent dig to find an intact specimen of a device called the Antikythera," Kuryakin said, " He apparently seemed quite enthused with their research."

"I know T.H.R.U.S.H. has shown interest in the past with antiquities but what would make this Anti-thingy device an object of their attention...what exactly is it?" Napoleon asked, knowing his partner, a veritable fountain of obscure knowledge would explain.

An image of the object now flashed on the video screen.

"A partial specimen of this clock-like mechanism was found corroded and crumbling from lying for 2,000 years under the sea," Illya said. "Just before Easter in 1900 a party of Dodecanese sponge divers were driven by a storm to anchor near the Greek Island of Antikythera. At a depth of 200 feet off Point Gyphadia, they found the wreck of an ancient ship in which the device along with several bronze and marble statues were recovered. In 1901 an archaeologist at the National Museum in Athens was examining a lump of calcified corroded bronze when he recognized fragments of a mechanism. The Antikythera was initially identified using x-ray technology."

Illya's eyes brightened as he disseminated the specifics regarding the ancient device as he flicked a switch, zooming in on the image, showing the details of its many gears and wheels.

"The Antikythera consists of a box with dials on the outside and very complex gear wheels mounted within, resembling in appearance an 18th century clock. Doors hinged to the box served to protect the dials and on all visible surfaces of the box, the door and the dials were inscribed with Greek inscriptions describing the operation and construction of the instrument."

"The forms of the letters are those of the first century B.C. hardly being older than 100 B.C. nor younger thatn the time of Christ. It was supposed that the purpose of the device was to indicate the sidereal, synodic and draconic months, planetary phenomena based upon the theory of Seleacid Babylonian astronomy. It is therefore hypothesized that it is an astrological computer."

Napoleon's attention drifted past it all, barely understanding a word his partner was saying until he said one word that registered to him.

"A computer?"Napoleon said, "well that explains Starke's interest. But how could something over 2,000 years old...even though you say it's a computer, be of use to T.H.R.U.S.H. and why are they involving Hektor and Spyros, why not just go after it themselves?"

"Dr. Starke does not possess the proper credentials to oversee any dig as the current government," Waverly said, "has become quite strict in issuing permits for any such work. At present, they are granting them only to Greek archaeologists. They are attempting to control and limit the illegal trade of their country's ancient artifacts and are quite wary of outsiders and since Starke is of questionable parentage and nationality, he is all the more limited in his actions. So your acquaintances Mr. Kuryakin are a matter of convenience to Dr. Starke."

"I have decided Mr. Solo that you and Mr. Kuryakin will go to Santorini to verify if it is indeed T.H.R.U.S.H and to find that out just exactly why there is an interest in this Antikythera."

"Interesting." Illya said." the island of Santorini or to be precise, Thera is said to be one of the proposed sites for the ancient city of Atlantis, where it rumored the Antikythera could have had it's origins. It is hypothesized that the ancient Atlanteans were scientifically advanced; their level of technology was believed to be far ahead of that found on mainland Greece and it is thought they even delved into the use of solar power, laser development using quartz crystal, and even possibly manned flight."

"The lost city of Atlantis? That's just a myth isn't it?" Napoleon asked as he walked out of the conference room with his partner. "I hope this isn't going to turn into another weird assignment like we had in Oaxaca."**

"You did not find our experiences in Mexico interesting?"

"No not really, they left me very...unsettled and I don't think you found it all that interesting as you never mentioned what happend in your report did you?" he smiled.

"Oh it was extremely fascinating but there is a fine line between what one might percieve as interesting and what others might call bordering on the fantastic, better those things were left unsaid. Let us hope this assignment will not drift in that direction?" the Russian smiled, " at least not too much."

"Illya, Atlantis _is_ a myth right?""

"The story of Atlantis does have a basis in fact," Illya said," Plato described its demise by earthquake and flood and Thera is the site of a massive volcanic caldera that had an island in its center. The island was engulfed in a volcanic eruption around 1600 B.C. It is referred to as the Minoan Eruption and is considered the most powerful seismic event in the history of civilization. Earthquakes of that magnitude generate massive tsunamis, just as Plato described Atlantis as being sunk by an earthquake and tidal wave, causing the island to disappear beneath the Aegean sea."

"The archaeological site at Akrotiri has revealed buildings dating to the Minoan time period and show a knowledge of advanced engineering and the construction of three and four-story buildings with intricate water piping systems for hot and cold running water, advanced air-flow management, earthquake resistant woodwork and masonry." Illya became quite animated as he continued to speak. "It is interesting that Plato described rock quarries on Atlantis as yeilding stones of distinct coloring...white, red and black. Rocks matching that exact description have been found on Thera". The possibility that Santorini is indeed Atlantis is most exciting."

Napoleon again felt overwhelmed by the sheer bulk of his partner's knowledge and seemingly passionate curiousity on the subject.

"O.K. you've convinced me that you know a lot about the island and it might be the stuff of legend," Napoleon childed. " but just keep your focus on the mission please and don't get all excited about the science?"

Illya raised his chin as he frowned, feeling a bit indignant at Napoleon's chastisement for his enthusiasm about Atlantis.

They left the next day arriving at Mikras airport in Thessaloniki, then taking a ferry to the island of Alonnisos, where when last there; they had left the yacht in the care of Aeneas Theohari, cousin to it's late owner Dr. Aphrodite Theohari, who was for a very brief time, Illya Kuryakin's lover while he was under the influence of capsule B during his last assignement in Greece. They boarded the boat after receiving a warm greeting by Aeneas, then sailed to the island of Santorini.

* ref. "The Archangel Affair" ** ref. "The Oaxaca Affair"


	2. Chapter 2

The air was warmer and the temperature had not improved even though there was now a stong breeze that had picked up substantially in the late afternoon; like clockwork the Livas had arrived, hot dust-laden winds originating in Libya. They were a blessing and yet a curse for Illya as the boat began to rock gently enough to make the Russian become nauseaous and just a little bit light-headed. He cursed himself as usual for his infirmity.

Napoleon shook his head as he watched his partner leaning over the side in preparation for his stomach to wreak havoc. Sometime the gentlest motion made Illya feel worse than as if it had been a rough sea.

"Take it easy tovarisch," he called sympathetically as he stepped down into the small motor boat with Aeneas.

Illya felt disinclined to speak at the moment and simply waved his acknowledgement to him, then took a sip of warm cola to sooth his stomach.

"Ugh." he groaned to himself. He refused to take dramamine as it would make him too drowsy and would just have to make due with his ginger tablets and soda, He then changed his mind, calling out to Napoleon. "Be careful my friend." He did not like the idea of Solo going off on his own to face the good doctor.

The small dingy shoved off, ten minutes later approching the dock where Aeneas tied off as Solo climbed up, stepping out onto the white stone pier at the base of the cliffs on which the capital of Santorini was perched. One of the dolphins had followed alongside, then swam off as the little boat neared the port, spewing out a blast of water from its blowhole as its grey and white form descended beneath the aqua-hued waters.

"Póte tha prépei na epistépsoun K'yrios Solo_when should I return Mister Solo?"

Greek was not one of his stronger languages, but Napoleon was at least able to understand and answer the simple question.

"Tha kléso_ I will call." he said, holding up his communicatior pen.

Aeneas looked at him strangely, not understanding the purpose of having been shown the silver pen. Then Napoleon chuckled to himself, having forgotten that the boy was not familiar with U.N.C.L.E. technology.

He gave himself ample time for the walk up the cliffside, having been warned that it was 600 steps to reach Fira, passing a few donkeys that lined the path as they waited to carry tourists. The wind was at least helping his comfort level as he strolled with his tan linen jacket draped lazily over his shoulder. It was near six-thirty in the evening, sunset wouldn't be far off and Napoleon had heard they were spectacular in this part of the Aegean. A few dogs and cats wandered along, some keeping him company on his journey upwards.

Stronghilos' villa was in the town of Firostefani and Solo was assured by Hektor and Spyros that it was withing walking distance. There was no clear demarcation as to where Fira ended and the next village began, though the minor crowds and hustle of Fira seemed to disappate as his walk became more serene and peaceful. He assumed at that point he had entered Firostefani, lying on the crest of a hill, giving a nice view as he turned, looking back down to Fira.

He saunterd past the adobe-like white-washed stucco houses, with their soft curved exteriors built one on top of the other, he passed the chapel of Agios Ioannis Apokefalisthseis with its dome painted a bright cobalt blue. Beside the dome was a bell tower with three large brass bells that chimed soulfully with a deep resonance.

Napoleon needed to remind himself for a moment not to get caught up in the scenic beauty of Santorini. Illya had once said that in all their travels, they rarely had the time to enjoy the places they had been.

"He was right," Napoleon thought, "this was a place he would choose to stop at for once," as its serenity called out to him longingly. "Perhaps he and Bella could honeymoon here?" he smiled as he thought of his future wife and mother to be, finding that he was missing her.

The prominent features of the homes and mansions all seemed to be high walls and inner courtyards built for privacy, and solid wooden doors set within arched entrance ways. He was told it was once to have guarded against pirates. And now he supposed that Stronghilos was a different sort of pirate living among them unawares.

He continued walking along the narrow cobblestoned pathways, lined with plain terracotta Grecian urns and planters filled with greenery and flowers until he finally reached Stronghilos' villa. It was larger than the other houses, which came as to no surprise to Napoleon. Thrush always like their ostentatious creature comforts as its location offered the man a spectaular panoramic view of the island and the inner bay.

Solo walked up a short flight of stairs to the arched entrance way, taking hold of a brass door knocker and tapping three times to alert those within of his arrival.

The heavy wooden doors opened slowly as he was greeted by an auburn-haired beauty dressed in a clinging one-piece red bathing suit with a diaphonous sarong wrapped around her waist.

"Hello," she smiled, " I am Astarte Lovely you must be Mr. Vaughn."

"You most certainly are, " Napoleon said, smiling charmingly at her as his libido slipped into gear. "Astarte, hmm. Interesting name associated with a deity of lust and the goddess Aphrodite."

"Why does it not surprise me that you are familiar with the goddess of love?" she smiled back enticingly; her near golden eyes sparkling at him.

Illya helped the others unfurl the sails, readying to set course for the short journey by water to the southern tip of the island and the location of the mysterious grotto. He was not moving as well has he normally would, staggering slightly from his dizziness as Hektor finally told the Russian to just sit down and take it easy as he was looking to green around the gills.

The heat and the seasickness were beginning to take their tolls on Kuryakin. He positoned himself in the bow of the boat as Aeneas brought the boat about catching the the wind, filling the white sails and letting the sea air cool him down.

The small pod of dolphins that had taken interest in the boat were now travelling along side it at a fast clip, periodically one of them would leap effortlessly from the water as they seemed to be racing with the yacht, matching it's speed without difficulty. Illya watched them with curiosity as they swam on either side of the bow staying clear of its wake; they in turn seemed to be watching him. Their presence at least for the moment, distracted the Russian from his discomfiture.

It took but a short time for them to reach their destination with a wind around 18 knots driving the boat across the water. Aeneas brought the yacht about, swinging it in to face the spectacular red beach, so named because of its coloring created by the red and black volcanic rocks that formed it. The cliff behind the narrow strand looked as though God had simply taken a great scoop with his hand, digging into the red surface.

The dropped anchor with a few small fishing boats scattered in the waters around them, then they made ready the motor boat to take them into shore. Illya was feeling overwhelmed by the heat as he pulled his t-shirt off then grabbed a mask and snorkle, putting it on, then donned a pair of flippers.

"I am swimming in," he announced to his companions as he placed one hand on the railing, hopping over the side and into the water with a small splash. The water was warm but still refreshing as he took a deep breath, descending to the shallow bottom for a quick look.

It seemed rather uninteresting at first, lacking color for the most part as black rocks dotted the sandy bottom. It was the rays of sunlight that caught his attention as they beamed down through the turquoise water, making it seem to dance. As Illya came closer to the shore line he began to spot more sea life, an octopus swirled along the sand, then a loggerhead turtle with its bright yellow underbelly swam past less than twenty feet away in the crystal clear water.

One of the dolphins approached him, looking at the slight blond human as he swam along. Illya reached out to the creature, as it allowed him fearlessly to pet it on its snout, calling to the man with high pitched squeeks, squeals and clicks. He then found himself surrounded by fish with bulging eyes and long dorsal fins...blennies, of the family of Blenidae his edemic memory recalled. Small and colorful, tending to stay near the bottom close to freshwater springs. They swam close to him, not frightened at all; their behavior odd as it was not typical of small fish.

There were a few tourists on the red and black pebbled beach, sunning themselves while laying on towels as the Russian slowly emerged from the water, removing his diving gear as he walked through the corridor of larger rocks that lined the shore, then onto the beach, turning the heads of a few of the female tourists as his white bathing trunks clung to his slightly pink skin that glistened wet in the bright sunlight and on this beach the sun seemed to beat down particularly strong.

Hektor and Spyros were already waitng for him, having tied off the boat.

They carried their snorkling gear with them as well as Illya approached, grabbing a bag from the boat, containing the equipment they'd need to enter the grotto. A few hundred yards up the beach there was a rocky outcrop that was prominent as it was white stone among the red volcanic plates that made up the cliff behind the beach, just beyond that point, Hektor and Spyros lead Illya back into the water.

It was a short dive beneath the surface, to a small cave that lie hidden beneath the outcrop. One could miss it easily if you did not know it was there as it blended in with the black rocks beneath the surface. Beams of sunlight shimmered down, dancing through the water as the three men slowly approached the entrance, with bits of sea life and debris reflecting in the water as they floated past like dust.

Once through the small entrance they continued into the dark tunnel, there they turned on waterproof lanterns as they moved onwards, illuminating the small specs in the water as they drifted past, then when the surface become visible, the men went up for air.

They continued swimming through the darkness until they emerged into the hidden grotto; climbing up at its rocky ledge and out of the water. There was a light source above their heads, a hole in the ceiling of the cave allowing sunlight to beam down, and the sound of a continuous drip, drip, drip of water could be heard echoing throughout the chamber as it ran along the rocks then landing in the pool.

"Échoumd dádes_we have torches." Hektor said, producing a cigarette lighter.

The dozen or so primitive torches once lit illuminated the grotto spectacularly, revealing its perfectly preserved contents. It was filled with life-sized bronze and marble statuary, fine terracotta pithos urns decorated in stylized gemetric patterns, bilingual amphoras black with red figures then others with black figures decortaing their surfaces depicting heroic figures from Greek legend, "Similar to specimens found at the Knossos Palace on Crete," Illya thought.

There were bronze breast plates and greaves, swords and spears. A full sized lyre, perfectly intact blue-green glassware, mosiac dishes in which stipes of rose, green, purple, yellow and turquoise glass were coiled into spirals then melted together, dishes filled with coins and jewelry. It was a priceless discovery.

Illya thought for a moment that the back wall to the grotto had an unusual sparkle to it, but his attention was drawn away from it immediately when

the Russian's gaze fell upon the complete and intact specimen of the Antikythera sitting atop a carefully carved marble pedestal.

The shining, bronze mechanism was encased in a wooden box, with a handle protruding from one side. Illya reached out, turning the it, smiling as the dials on the front of the device moved effortlessly. He looked at the back, seeing a set of two displays, the engraving dividing one into days, months and years on the top dial, the lower dial giving the times of eclipses that would occur during throughout a year.

It was exactly as historians had proposed, a computer to calculate astronomical events. Illya was perplexed...what was it about this object that had T.H.R.U.S.H. so interested in it?"


	3. Chapter 3

The beautiful Astarte escorted Napoleon across a courtyard brimming with potted palm trees and plants; at its center was the statue of languorous woman leaning forward, pouring water from an urn into a fountain that surrounded her.

Napoleon followed behind Astarte, watching her hips sway seductively.

"Lovely indeed," he thought with a slight smile, then chastised himself to get his mind out of the bedroom. She lead him to an intimate drawing room, its walls white and its floor cool terracotta tiles. There were several more large marble statues of nude women in the classic Grecian poses, as well as male statuary looking as though they were frozen in time, in deep contemplation.

The room felt somewhat cooler perhaps it was the thickness of the walls fending off the heat as he was shown to a pair of dark green high back leather chairs in its center. A large ceiling fan turned above them, circulating the warm are enough to make it more comfortable.

Dr. Stonghilos appeared through one of the side doors, still dressed in a cool white linen suit.

"Ah Mr. Vaughn welcome to my humble abode, please have a seat."

A servant appeared carrying a tray of drinks, offering one first to the guest.

As Napoleon picked up the glass, he detected an odd odor coming from it. He looked questionably at the drink, then at his host.

"I see you are concerned by the scent of your libation. It is a local drink called Masthi...made from mastic, a resin found in the bark of a particluar Mediterreanean tree. I assure you it is quite refreshing." Stronghilos smiled, making the scar along his chin line more prominent as he took a sip from his own tumbler.

Napoleon tipped the glass to his lips... it tasted better than it smelled and seemed like a cross between lemonade and tonic with a hint of herbs.

"Interesting," he smiled, raising his eyebrows, nodding his approval. "Surprisingly good."

"You will find many such delights here on Santorini, but I think you already know that.," the doctor said as he reached up to Astarte, stroking her arm with the back of his hand and she stood beside him.

"Yes to say the least, " Napoleon replied.

The doctor drew a gold pocket watch from his vest and looked a the time. "Please Mr. Vaughn join me out on the terrace for our repast, once we have eaten we can enjoy the spectacular sunset. It is a local ritual here to pause and view it each evening."

"And will Miss Lovely be joining us?"

"But of course, " she smiled.

Dr. Stronghilos and Astarte walked ahead of Napoleon, leading him up a short flight of stairs to a terrace that faced out to the caldera, giving them a full view of the entire side of the island. Another terrace directly below them contained a pool, its lining decorated with turquoise and black mosiacs in geometric Greek patterns.

"I'm surprised to see that," Napoleon said, " Isn't water in short suppy here? It's my understanding that the crops aren't even watered and survive only on the dew from the air."

"That is quite correct about the crops Mr. Vaughn, but as for the swimming pool; some creature comforts are necessary here in this un-godly hot climate, for those who can afford it."

Napoleon was seated at the table with the others as they were served Greek salad that included kapari, a locally grown vegtable the size of a pea. Sides of fava cooked in a red sauce with wild capers, kalamata olives, keftes...mint scented fried tomatos, eggplant fritters with tzaziki, a yogurt and cubumber dish.

The food continued to arrive, with the main course consisting of grilled fish and baked moussaka made with sliced white eggplant, lean groung beef, onions, tomatoes, with butter, eggs, and seasonings.

Astarte was was busy being a little nymphette, pushing Napoleon's buttons at her every opportunity.

"Our Moussaka is made with eggplants grown only here you know...they're white, round and are called the _apples of love_," she said as her hands brushed her breasts suggestively." It's said they are quite effective as an aphrodisiac."

"It remains to be seen what arises I suppose?" he flirted back with her, thinking he'd have to keep the situation under control.

The leisurely meal was served with sweet Santorini wine and the conversation was light it as it was nearly half past eight in the evening and nearly time to view that famed sunset. They stood along the railing on the high terrace overlooking the caldera as the golden sun drifted down in the sky, seeming so close that it looked as if it were about to fall into the sea.

The light of the sun and the smoke from the active volcano in the calder affected the colors spectrum, first casting pinks and lavenders on the white of the clouds and the houses along the rim and cliffside. Then as the sun became lower, the colors changed to yellow and oranges, reflecting on the water, making it look like an iridescent kaleidoscope on the shifting tides of the waters below.

Astarte clasped her arm with Napoleons' leaning her head against his shoulder. "Isn't that possibly the most spectacular thing you've ever seen? It positively makes one swoon," she said sotto vocce.

"Oh boy," Napoleon thought, this was going to get complicated.

"So Mr. Vaughn..." Astarte said.

"Please, call me James." Napoleon answered sipping his wine.

"Yes, why of course James, Stavros tells me you work for the Metropolitan Museum of Art?"

"That's correct, department of antiquities."

"Really, that sounds so divine. Getting to commune with history...with the ancients." she cooed.

"Not really. I'm more in the financial end, getting grants of sponsorship for archaeologists at the present."

"Oh yes, you mean Hektor and Spyros...they are so dull and classless, always with their heads buried in the ground."

"Yes, but their latest project, the search for an intact Antikythera is most exciting would you not agree?" Stavros said.

"I suppose?"

"You seem disinterested in their work," said Stavros. "How is it then you came to be involved in their funding?"

Napoleon could feel himself squirming, concerned that Stronghilos was somehow becoming suspicioius of him.

"We heard of their dig at the Met and given the malaise over the funding of archaelogical projects in Greece right now, we thought them worthy recipients."

"Really Mr. Vaughn, if that is indeed your name. How could that be? You see Hektor and Spyros have been keeping their project out of the public eye due to it's spectacular nature." There was a sharp tone of deliberateness to the Doctor's voice. "How do you know about them...you don't work for the museum do you? Just who are you?" He asked many impatient questions.

Astarte was up beside Napoleon in an instant, moving smoothley as cat, gliding quickly to him; pressing a razor-sharp stiletto blade to his throat.

Solo raised his chin carefully as he smiled with confidence.

"What's so amusing, " she said, still with a seductive purr to her voice.

"That wouldn't be a very smart thing to do...Central would be quite displeased if you were to injure me."

"Central," she hesitated with doubt in her voice." What is that?"

"Yes tell us?" Stronghilos said. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

"Come come," Napoleon said. "You're both members of T.H.R.U.S.H. aren't you? We can speak plainly now, I believe. I was sent here Doctor Stronghilos, or would your prefer Dr. Strong, or Starke perhaps? We are concerned about the progress of your current project to obtain the Antikythera device._ Ich bin hier, um ihrenbericht, Herr Doktor_ I am here for your status report,_" he spoke in German, hoping that would make him sound more believable, but he uttered a silent prayer his bluff would work with the two of them.

The Doctor waived Astarte to step back away from Napoleon.

"Why shoud I believe you? And why would Central have sent someone without notifying me?"

"It is not the habit of Central to tell someone they are going to receive a surprise visit." Napoleon became indignant. " Fine, don't believe me. Contact Central if you please, but if you do so, there will be consequences for questioning a representative of the Central Council itself."

Napoleon's bold move seemed to have worked and Stronghilos backed down.

"No no, my sincerest apologies. I am just surprised to be hearing from Central so soon."

"And are you ready to give me your status report Doctor?" Napoleon spoke with authority in his voice attempting to keep Stronghilos on the defensive.

"The two archaeologists, Hektor and Spyros are very close, I can feel it. They are being very close-mouthed and evasive, making me think they may have the Antikythera in their possession soon, if not already."

"Yes, umm. That was Central's thinking as well and that's why I was sent. Now once you get the device in your possession..."

" I'll use it to power up the crystal solar cannon of course, a demonstration of it's power will be in order." Stronghilos bragged. " I have it safely in place, waiting for the control mechanism...just think of it, an actual laser developed in Atlantis thousands of years ago and so powerful it will make T.H.R.U.S.H. the masters of the world in no time."

"And where have you hidden the solar cannon?"

"Stronghilos eyed him warily. " It is safe I can assure you." he smiled as he drew a pocket watch from his vest. " It is late and I find the intensity of the heat today has been most draining. Mr. Vaughn, I insist that you stay here as my guest this evening as walking the dark paths down the cliffside can be quite dangerous at night. Many foolish people have fallen to their death into to the caldera. Now, if you'll excuse me, I will bid you good night. Astarte, if you will see to Mr. Vaughn's amusement please?"

"Of course, Stavros, " she smiled as he disappeared to another part of the villa. "I am so terribly hot, " she then sighed to Napoleon " I feel like a swim, care to join me James?"

"Sorry no bathing trunks," he smiled.

"And that is a problem, for a man like yourself I hardly think so. You do not strike me as the shy type?" she coaxed.

"I'm not really in the mood to swim. It's not exactly one of my favorite evening pastimes."

Astarte pressed her body against him. " And what is your favorite thing to do?" her lips pouted on that last word.

"That's for me to know and you to find out, later." Napoleon took the risk, leaning forward, he kissed Astarte on the lips; teasing her with his tongue.

"Mmm, why wait?" she whispered as she took his hand, grabbing a bottle of ouzo from the table and a pair of glasses; she lead him downstairs to her room. Once inside, she kissed Napoleon hungrily, and he returned her embrace, running his hands across her body, and as he took hold of her breasts in his hands. Astarte moaned loudly. Napleon bent her backwards in a deep kiss, then held onto her as she went limp in his arms.

He pullled the small sleep dart from the back of her neck where he had injected her with it, then he picked her up placing her on the bed as he proceeded to remove her clothing. He looked at her gorgeous body for a moment, drinking her in, then shook his head.

"There would have been the day..." he thought to himself with a smile. Then he sprinkled some of the alchohol on her, the bedding and her clothes then finally took a quick swig from the bottle before he placed it on the night stand.

He left Astarte alone in her bedroom and when she would wake in the morning, she'd have a slight headache, not remembering the night's fun, or so that's what she would have thought she'd had.

Napoleon left the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him as he proceeded to move carefully through the house until he found what looked like Stronghilos' office. There were several computers set up, maps, diagrams and drawings posted on the walls. Several of which drew the agent's immediate attention.

One was a sketch, a rendering of what a supposed complete Antikythera might look like, and the other was a drawing of what appeared to be something that resembled immense faceted crystal with ten sides mounted on some sort support with wheels. He looked closely at it, checking the dimenstions written on the paper, guessing this was the crystal solar cannon. The measurements indicated it was the size of a large console televison set, yet he could find nothing to tell him where Stronghilos had hidden it.

He searched the rest of the house, still finding nothing, then finally pulled out his communicator pen.

"Open Channel F-Kuryakin."

"Napoleon, where are you?" Illya asked

"I'm still at Stonghilos' villa, and will be spending the night. I convinced him that I'm a representative of Thrush Central here to check up on him."

"Clever, and he fell for it?"

"For now. Look, he spoke about something called a crystal solar-powered cannon, built by the people of Atlantis. I saw a drawing of it. It has ten triangular panels, five on each side, about 3'x 3'. The Antikythera is the mechanism that controls this thing."

"A decahedron laser? Illya said. "Napoleon I have been to the grotto with Hektor and Spyros and we found the device. It is an amazing constuction, I cannot wait to analyze..."

"Hold your horses partner, don't go getting all scientist on me. This sounds like a pretty dangerous machine and Stronghilos won't hesitate to use it if he gets his hands on it. We may have to destroy it and the crystal cannon."

"Napoleon the Antikythera is a priceless archaeological artifact. It _is_ an astrological computer as well, although I cannot see how it could be used to control a weapon such as you described?"

"I know tovarish, I know."

"I understand," Illya said with disappointment in his voice as he repeated their mantra. "We do what ever it takes to complete the mission."


	4. Chapter 4

The Nereid Thetis was again anchored off shore off the port at Gialos, just below Fira. It was now ten in the morning and Illya had not heard another word from his partner since the night before and as usual that was beginning to worry him.

The winds were blowing steadily, stirring up the still turquoise waters, but now there were small white caps dotting the bay as the yacht rocked to and fro more vigorously. They were achored to a bouy father out as the bottom was too deep to drop anchor; the clang of its bell ringing out steadily as it too rocked from the waves.

It was unlike Napoleon not to check in but Illya knew that he dare not try to contact him; given that he was now masquerading as a member of Thrush. An U.N.C.L.E. communicator sounding off at an inopportune moment would undoubtedly blow his cover. And so Kuryakin waited uncomfortably, his vexation growing exponentially the longer he was out of touch with his partner.

He went down below deck, having taken his ginger pills and continued drinking warm cola like it was water. That helped his stomach, but the slight vertigo he was experiencing was most annoying.

Illya knew that it really was better for him to stay above deck but his curiosity overcame his discomfort. He wanted very badly to examine the Antikythera as he had a feeling it was important for him to learn as much about it as he could.

Things always had a habit of turning on them with these unusual assignments, and who knew what trouble the possession of the device could bring them; Illya had a sense about these sort of things. Napoleon would just put it off to his partner fatalistic tendencies, but Illya's feelings proved right more often than not.

He placed the Antikythera cautiously on the table as Hektor sat beside him, cringing that the Russian was going to remove it from its wooden casing.

_"Parakaloú me na eíste prosktitkoí Nickó, den midén. Ta Antikythira eínai anektímiti_please be careful Nickó, do not scratch it. The Antikythera is priceless. It will be one of Greece's greatest National treasures."_

_"Xéro Hektor, allá eínai pithanó sydéetai me óna apó ta pio epikíndyna ópla pou efevéthike poté_I know Hektor, but it is possibly tied to one of the most dangerous weapons ever invented. I must understand how it works."_

"How is that possible, it is a device to calculate astronomical movement, is it not?" Hektor asked, looking a bit confused. "Is there something that you are not telling me my friend?"

Illya hesitated to reveal he truth, but decided the Greek had a right to know. "Dr. Stonghilos has come into the possession of a weapon that might have had it's origins in the mythical city of Atlantis. It is a large crystalline device made in the form of a ten-sided decahedron and is powered by the sun. It is called a solar cannon. The Antikythera is apparently the control mechanism for this laser."

"How can that be? Even I know the existence of Atlantis is just a legend...a laser? What is that?"

"It is a device that generates an intense beam of coherent monochromatic light, or possibly electromatic radiation by the stimulated emission of protons from excited atoms or molecules."

Hektor looked totally lost by that wordy explanation.

"I will simplify," Illya said. "It ampifies light by stimulating emissions of radation."

Again, Hektor looked confused.

Illya's mind began racing through his theories in quantum mechanics and to Heisenberg's uncertainty principle for a more practical answer but none of it would do, he searched his memory further for one that he could give to Hektor more in layman's terms.

"Sorry, I still do not understand. You say radiation? It is like the atom bomb, then?"Hektor asked.

Illya scratched his head, arriving at last to a less complicated reply.

"It is a death ray," he offered a term popularized by the science fiction genre.

"Oh as in the space movies. I saw a film once called 'Forbidden Planet'* they had great machines called battries that fired lights?"

"Sorry I am not familiar with that one." Illya said," but an apt description of the function. Have you ever seen the movie called Atlantis the Lost Continent?** " Terrible film," Illya smiled, " but the crystal ray powered by the sun is quite illustrative of what I think we could be up against here."

"Oh, yes I remember that! It was how you say, a corny depiction of the legend of Atlantis and of the ancient Greeks." Hektor now looked frightened, "Such a thing truly exists?"

"Apparently so."

Kuryakin set a silver briefcase on the table beside the mechanism. He unlocked it, and removed a black cloth roll, unravelling it beside him. It contained a number of tools, long tweezers, bent-nose pliers, needle-nose pliers, small jewelers screwdrivers, a dental mirror, probes and a 20X jewelers loupe.

He took out a small pocket knife that he used to explore the edges of box as he placed the loupe to his eye. He moved carefully, precisely until he located a locking mechanism; he used one of the screwdrivers to release it. The front of the box opened easily, allowing him to reach in, detach the handle where it connected inside, and slide the inner workings gently forward and out of it's protective container. What he was doing was not unlike the work of a clockmaker.

Hektor moved the box out of the way, placing it carefully on the mattress of one of the bunks, returning to the Russian's side to observe the work.

Illya looked up and down, examined it carefully, and finally removed a small hand mirror as well as one of the fine probes from his kit.

"_Moiá san eínai énas giatros etoimá zetai na ketelé si mia cheirourgikí epémvasi_you look like a physician getting ready to perform surgery."_

That made Illya smile. " I am, but of the exploratory kind."

The precision bronze gears were set together, interacting with a series of wheels, including a differential gear that would set the other gears in a rotating motion of two speeds at different rates. There were thirty-seven gear wheels that he could see, and the inner workings were fitted with over thirty bronze parts.

As to the purpose of wheels; they served as dials to track the four-year cycles of the Greek calendar, it set dated on the calendar, predicted the movement of the sun and the moon, followed some of the planets and stars, calculated and tracked a number of the heavens and all planetary motion. It could multitask all these things, doing it at the the same time.

Kuryakin found the functionality and technology of this piece of history completely astounding.

"How could he risk such a marvel being destroyed?" He asked himself. If they destroyed the laser then that too was another ethical question, but that was out of the question as its potential for destruction in the hands of Thrush was too great, if it were eliminated then perhaps at least the Antihythera could be saved?

"One out of two was not a bad compromise," he concluded. Illya continued to examine the priceless object, yet in all this analysis he could still not fathom how this amazing device could control a laser?

Illya was not one to conjecture without definitive data, but he surmised that since the laser was purported to be powered by the sun; then there must be some adjustment on the Antikythera that could be set directly related to the energy source for the weapon.

He looked again at the dials, and found one of them that was engraved in ancient Greek letters, though different in many aspects from it's modern linguistic descendent, he could still decipher the words. It showed a stylized etching of the sun and inscribed with one word, _e__xcusia___power._ That dial he deemed was of importance in the scheme of things and it was the one that seemed unrelated to the function of the others...

While deconstructing the device he laid the pieces out in a specific order, though his memory served him well in the reconstruction process as he slowly and methodically pieced the mechanism back together, much to Hector's relief.

Illya looked at his watch and it was now two in the afternoon yet still no word from Napoleon. At least his working on the Antikythera served as a brief distraction from his concerns over his partners well-being.

"Hektor I am worried about Napoleon; he should have contacted me by now. Since you and Spyros were privy to Stronghilos' invitation to Napoleon, perhaps I could impose upon one of you to pay the doctor a visit. Tell him that you wish to speak to Mr. Vaughn regarding the funding of your project and you have not been able to find him today."

Spyros gladly accepted Illyas request, though the Russian did not relish the direct involvement of an innocent with a member of T.H.R.U.S.H. but going to the doctor's residence himself would have been too much of a risk, as his appearance... fair-skin and blond hair made his presence too obvious, even with tourists around; it would be difficult for him to blend in.

He warned the man to exercise prudence, asking only if Mr. Vaughn was still at the doctor's house and nothing more, then to return immediately to the Thetis.

"It is possible that if you see Napoleon and he is in trouble, then he may try to give you some sort of message. So be very careful and accurate about what, if anything he says to you, especially if it is in the presence of Stronghilos."

Spyros decided to use one of the many donkeys waiting along the cobblestoned path at the base of Fira, deeming it important to get up and down the cliffs quickly with the information.

He navigated the donkey around the crowds of people that seemed to fill the village today; surprised at so many choosing to be outside during the gusting, dust laden heat of the day. He arrived at the doctors villa, thought the trip seemed as though it had taken much longer that it should have. Spyros was nervous, he was accustomed to dealing withsilent ruins and not engaging people in clever conversation, especially when it meant lying. He had visited the doctors villa once before and found it rich and opulent; something he was not used to either, and it made him uncomfortable. He was a _digger _and his kind cared not for such things. He tried to calm himself as he knocked on the door; as it opened, he was met by Astarte Lovely.

"What is it you want Spyros?" She asked coldly. The woman did not appear to be in the most congenial moods at the moment. She wore a pair of dark glasses and her head was covered with a scarf, similar to that of a hijab he had seen worn by Muslim women. She wore a light bathrobe, shielding that she was either wearing a bathing suit, or pehaps nothing at all? Spyros tried to banish that thought from his head.

He had seen the woman before in the company of the doctor but always felt anxious in her presence. He clasped the blue glass_ mati_ pendant that hung around his neck, it was his apotriopaic, used to ward off _matiasma_the evil ey_e. Spyros hope it would prevent her from jinxing him.

_"Lympámi poly' gla na enouchloún esás Kyría Astarte_I am so sorry to disturb you Madame Astarte,"_ his voice cracked, "but I am looking for Mr. Vaughn and am unable to find him. He had dinner here with Stavros last night, did he not?"

Astarte flashed him a disgusted glare filled with annoyance. "Mr. Vaughn is _gone_, he ugh, had to return to New York unexpectedly and left early this morning." She promptly slammed the heavy door in his face.

Spyros was taken aback by her rude and abrupt behavior. Even he knew that she was lying, Napoleon would never leave and not tell his friend the Russian. He quickly climbed atop the donkey for the trip back down the cliff from the rim. The Greek hurried the poor creature along, yelling epithets at it.

_"Kínisi! Sas ilíthio aidiastiko_move! you stupid disgusting thing!"_

Pedestrians in front of them who blocked the way, stood shaking their fists as the animal plowed past them, braying its displeasure at being prompted so vigorously by Spyros' heels.

The creature made its final protest, coming to a complete stop just where the village of Fira ended, forcing Spyros to abandon the animal and walk the 600 steps down to the base.

He arrived at last to where Aeneas waited patiently for him; the young man sitting on the pier itself playing his tsambouna bagpipes, made from the skin of a small kid goat; its mournful droning sounding like cats in heat that eventually grated upon the listener when not played well. Aeneas, however, had mastered a difficult instrument, making it sound musically interesting and had now attracted a small crowd of American tourists who were throwing coins on a blanket that he spread beside him on the dock.

"Come on folks," called out the tour guide, "we have a schedule to keep if you want to be at the right place at the right time tonight for the sunset?"

"AENEAS!" Spyros yelled at the young man as he gasped for breath.

_"Stamatiste na paízete to katara méno tsamboura! Kai na párei to ploío étoimo! Prépei na pároume piso tóra! Ky'rios Solo eínai prólima_stop playing that damn ysamboura and get the boat ready! We need to get back now! Mister Solo is in trouble!"_

Aeneas grabbed the blanket, gathering up his coins inside it as he hopped down from the pier. He laid his instrument down, then quickly tied the blanket ends together, so as to not lose any of his earnings.

He let go the line tying the boat to the pier as Spyros climbed down into the dingy, then Aeneas started the small motor; quickly turning it about heading back at full speed to where the Nereid Thetis was anchored.


	5. Chapter 5

Stavros Stronghilos ran his thumb absent-mindedly along his facial scar, and adjusted the patch on his eye as he stared intently at the figure seated unconscious and bound to a chair on the terrace.

Napoleon's eyes opened slowly, squinting at the unexpected brightness of the sunlight; he was momentarily confused as the last thing he remembered was laying down on his bed still fully clothed as he fell asleep.

"Good morning Mr. Solo." Stavros greeted him coldly.

"That depends on your point of view" he shifted uncomfortably, "And why are you calling me that name? There better be a very good explanation as to why I am not in my bed right now and why you have me tied up." Napoleon seethed, continuing his ruse.

"Come now Mr. Solo...Mr. Napoleon Solo of U.N.C.L.E. I am afraid you can drop your little charade. You gave yourself away when you ventured into my workroom last night. How stupid of you to not even consider that I might have computerized surveillance equipment set up against just such an intrusion?"

"Oh well these little things happen," Napoleon smiled nonplussed, "One learns to deal with them."

"You realize I heard your entire conversation with Mr. Kuryakin, speaking of which; where is he?He has the Antikythera mechanism and I want it from him now."

Napoleon laughed. "Do you really think that we would give it to you?"

"No, I suppose not, but I had to ask." he smiled wickedly. Stronghilos ran his finger beneath the lapel of Napoleon's linen jacket and Solo readied himself thinking he was about to be hit.

Astarte walked onto the terrace looking quite unhappy and hung over from her dosing with the U.N.C.L.E. tranquilizer, apparently it had the same effect on her as T.H.R.U.S.H. sleep darts had on Illya, which tended to leave him more cranky that usual.

"One of those bumpkin archaeologists was just here looking for _him_ Stavros. I said that Mr. Vaughn had returned to New York."

"Good, "Stavros said in satisfaction, " then his partner will undoubtedly know that we have Mr. Solo then."

The woman strode towards Napoleon. "You!" She seethed as she slapped Napoleon across the face.

He rotated his jaw, recovering from the impact of her blow and wondered if she were more angry over the failure seduce him or having had the tranquilizer used on her.

"Now now, temper my dear, we mustn't take things to heart, it was just part of the job," he smiled at her. "How's your head, by the way?"

Astarte backhanded him this time with a growl of displeasure.

"Enough for now!" Stavros ordered her to stop, "There will be time later for your games Astarte. Now tell me Mr. Solo, where is Illya Kuryakin?"

"Kuryakin is here?" Astarte blurted out.

"Don't be so naive my dear," Stavros said, "you should know by now that where Napoleon Solo is... Illya Kuryakin is not far away."

The woman's look became vicious. " I have some personal business to finish with that murderous Russian bastard. I look forward to getting my hands on him."

"_Astarte_, please?"Stavros interrupted her tirade,"Now Mr. Solo, back to the matter at hand. I want that device, so tell me where it is?"

Napoleon crinkled his nose in amusement, "No."

Stronghilos sighed witg impatience. "Fine then, we will take another route then shall we?"

Stronghilos snapped his fingers, calling two of his men to the terrace.

"Take Mr. Solo to the _special_ room please? Astarte you may commence with your entertainment, but I warn you do not let things get out of hand."

"Stavros, you _never_ let me have her fun anymore," she pouted as the followed behind the guards, dragging Solo off between the two of them.

"Well you may now do so, my dear. But _keep_ it under control," he whispered to her before she followed after the guards.

Stavros picked up Napoleon's communicator from where it lay on the table beside him and opened it with a skilled hand, as he followed Astarte to her 'special room.' He was after all part of the science division of T.H.R.U.S.H. and completely familiar with many of the gadgets that his adversaries employed.

"Hello? He spoke into it. "I would like to speak to Mr. Kuryakin?"

"Just one moment please...Mr. Kuryakin is operating on Channel F.

I'll connect you."

The motor boat tied up to the Thetis and Illya reached down with his hand, helping the two climb on back board; he could see that Spyros was distraught.

"The woman Astarte... I've seen her with Stravros she answered the door and told me that Napoleon and had gone back to the museum in New York! I am sure he is in trouble!"

"Take it easy Spyros, slow down. I am sure you are correct, but we know how to deal with such situations...give me a moment. I will have to think this over as to what to do." Illya answered with no sign of emotion in his voice.

He walked away from the three of them, leaving them somewhat in a state of confusion as they were not accustomed to such things. They watched as Illya wandered away from them to the bow of the boat to mull over the situation.

A frontal assault, direct attack to the villa seemed like the only option, that was assuming that Napoleon was still there and alive and the Russian realized he would be the only one doing it. He could not involve the Greeks in that move, as it was too risky and he would not allow them as innocents to be put in further danger.

That was when his communicator chirpped, calling him from his thoughts.

He answered quickly, thinking that it was his partner and that Spyros had just made a mistake. "Kuryakin here...Napoleon?"

"No Mr. Kuryakin it is not. This is Adolph Starke, or perhaps at the moment you know of me as Dr. Stavros Stronghilos. I have your partner as my prisoner and in exchange for his safe release, I will take the Antikythera off your hands."

Illya suddenly heard Napoleon's voice in the background, calling out to him. "Don't do it tovarisch!" Then there was a loud noise and Solo's voice was silenced.

"As you just heard Mr. Solo's voice, that indeed verifies that I have him. Now do as I request and he will be released, unharmed."

"You need to give me a little time to make my decision doctor, as it is one that carries major implications and cannot be made lightly."

"Fine Mr. Kuryakin." the doctor spoke arrogantly, "You have one hour to do so. Be at my front door with the Antikythera in your hands or you will find Mr. Solos dead body at the bottom of the cliffs."

Hektor walked over to the Russian; seeing him put his communicator pen back into his pocket.

_"Ákousa ton filo mou_I heard my friend. What are your going to do, surely you are not going to give it to him?"_

This was something Illya had not anticipated. He went below changing from his bathing trunks and into a pair of black jeans and tee-shirt, then retrieveing the device from the table where he had reassembled it; he wrapped it in a towel, and returned above to the deck.

_"Óchi_ parakaloúme na mito kánete aftó_no please do not do this? We can help you free your friend," Hektor and Spyros both pleaded with him.

Illya gestured firmly with his hand. "No...thank you my friends but I will not allow such a risk. I cannot permit collateral damage again," he said with the memory of Aphrodite Theohari in the back of his mind.

"Aeneas! Illya called, "Come, I need you to pilot the boat back to the dock for me.

Aeneas obeyed the Russian's stern order as Illya climbed down into the motorboat, lettiing loose the mooring rope and starting the engine. The curious dolphins leapt from the water alongside the dingy, following it eagerly this time right up to the dock. One of the creatures squealed and clicked as it stuck its head above the water looking at Kuryakin stepping up to the dock.

_"Epistorofí stin Ainéias várka_go back to the boat Aneas."_

_"Allá_but?"_

_"Den epichéirí mata_no arguments."_

Illya stood at the edge of the pier waiting until the young man departed as he had been told. The dolphin remained circling and splashing in the blue water as if it were trying to get the Russian's attention. Illya turned away, ignoring the creatures antics, and proceeded along the cobblestone walkway heading up the cliff through Fira, then onwards to Stronghilos' villa.

The winds were blowing wildly, moving the hot air around him, providing no relief as the fair-haird Russian moved along the pathway. and gusting strongly enough to make him shield his eyes from the fine dust in the swirling air.

He reached the villa at the appointed time; walking quickly up the steps. He pounded on the door, taking a step back, and drawing his special from his belt.

The door opened, and Stavros Stonghilos greeted him warmly, giving Illya a shiver in the midst of a strong gust of hot air as the man said his name.

"Welcome Mr. Kuryakin, please come in won't you?"

"No thank you. I believe we have an exchange to make?"

"Of course right down to business... no amenities of course. So true to your reputation."

Illya pointed his Walther directly at the man, giving him an icy blue-eyed stare, "Send Solo out and you can have this." Illya gestured to the bundle cradled in the crook of his left arm.

He suddenly felt something sharp jabbing him just under his chin. Trying not to move, he glanced to the side with his eyes, seeing Astarte Lovely holding the blade of her long stiletto. She reached over with her free hand, relieving him of his weapon.

Stavros smiled at him with satisfaction. "As I said Mr. Kuryakin, please come in."

Astarte held his own gun on him as he stepped through the doorway down into the courtyard.

"Oh and I'll take that, " Stavros said as he pulled the bundle from the Russian's arm." I suggest you raise your hands above your head and not make any sudden moves as Astarte apparently has some sort of personal anger issues anger you. No need to raise her ire any more than it is already."

Illya looked at the beautiful auburn-haired woman, dressed in a very tight white sleeveless jump suit, the front which was unzipped well below her cleavage. He wondered for a moment what this supposed issue was that she had with him, as he had never seen her before. He remembered faces, and one as especially as enticing as this one he would have surely been able to recall.

.

The room was dark, lit by several torches; there were several archaic torture devises house inside, an Iron Maiden, a rack and an a brazier stoked with hot coals, and a pair of iron pokers stuck in the middle of them.

Napoleon opened his eyes slowly, finding himself in pain as he looked down at the bloody red slash marks staining the front of his white shirt.

He suddenly remembered Astarte's game, how many cuts it would take before he passed out, judging from the blood on his clothing; it was quite a few. Then he heard a familiar voice beside him.

"It is about time you woke up."

"What are you doing here." Napoleon said as he saw his partner shackled to the wall beside him.

"Just hanging around waiting for you wake up so you can be rescued."

"Doesn't look like you're doing a very good job of it right now."

"Well if that is the attitude you are going to take..."

"Seriously, please don't tell me that you gave him the device?"

"All right, I will not tell you then."

"Illya?"

"Well not exactly, I did not give it to them willingly though I would have done so once you had been freed. That was the deal that I had with Stronghilos, you know."

Napoleon's words were a little sarcastic. "Well that went well, getting a little too trusting in your old age aren't you? You gave them exactly what they wanted and now they're going to activate a ...a decahedry thingy."

"Death ray?"

"Where did you come up with that?"

"That apparently is a more colloquial identification for it and it is a somewhat easier name to say than a solar-powered crystal decahedron cannon," Illya smiled.

"True it does roll off the tongue a little better. So you just gave T.H.R.U.S.H. a working death ray?"

"Napoleon, that remains to be seen," Illya said quietly."Trust me..."


	6. Chapter 6

Illya's attention was drawn away from his partner as he glanced at their surroundings, noticing the tools of torture and the brazier burning red hot with the pokers inserted into the coals, he and Napoleon shackled together side by side hanging from a dark, torch lit wall... these elements were all too recognizable, giving him an overwhelming feeling of deja vú. The only thing missing from the scene was a skeletal companion shackled between the two of them...?*

"Napoleon, he mused, "you do not suppose that Edith Partridge might be lurking about here somewhere, this chamber looks too familiar for it to be a coincidence."

"Illya as I recall, she's dead?" he said as he made a funny face at the Russian.

"That does not necessarily mean anything my friend?"

"So correct and interesting that you should take note" a woman's voice spoke from the darkness; it was not that of Edith Partridge, but the speech pattern and something about it rang familiar to Illya's keen ear.

Astarte Lovely stepped out of the shadows. " these wonderful toys that surround you...you see they belonged to my dearly departed Aunt Edith. And I have the same penchant for their use as she did. I had them brought here all the way from East Snout just to make me feel at home. My dear Aunt did teach me everything I know." she smiled hungrily in anticipation of what she was about to do.

"You seem hardly the lady your Aunt Edith was." Illya quipped.

"I said she taught me everything I know...except manners of course. She and Uncle Emory were a bit too proper for my taste."

"Another niece...how big is your family?" Napoleon asked, then reminded himself silently not to mention he and Illya's involvement in the disappearance of her Uncle Emory in Mexico.**

Astarte pulled out her needle sharp stiletto from a sheath strapped to her thigh, running the blade along Illya's chest, exerting just enough pressure to slice through the top of his T- shirt down to the waist, but not to cut through to his skin.

"I have been waiting for this opportunity Mr. Kuryakin, my payback for something I rather liked that you took from me...my paramour to be precise."

Illya eyed her cleavage, her breasts pushing their way out like ripe melons being squeezed by the tightness of her jumpsuit. He swallowed, then looked her into her golden eyes.

"Why do I have a feeling there have been quite of few of those already?"

She increased the pressure of the blade, running it against his stomach but Illya gave no reaction as trickles of blood began to flow from the long slice she made into in his skin.

He did not learn his lesson as he continued baiting her."And who may I ask is it this _one_ of _many_ that I referred to?"

This time she kneed him in the groin, that causing him to yelp as he gasped with that pain.

"It was Eric Lehrner,"* she seethed at him. She slashed the blade again across his chest with one deft swipe of her arm. This time the Russian acknowledged it with a groan.

"Tovarisch" Napoleon called to him. "don't give her the satisfaction!"

"Shut your mouth Solo and wait your turn. I promise that I am not finished with you yet." Her voice was giddy with anticipation.

Illya gathered his composure enough to speak." You and Eric...there's an interesting clash of egos. So who always ended up on top you or he?"

That remark again brought a slash of the blade, this time cutting deeper into his skin.

Illya pressed his head back against the wall holding in his reaction, much to the disappointment of Astarte. "Maybe he had pushed her a little too far now?" he thought as he fought to hold back a moan.

"Didn't you ever wonder who lured Eric to Thrush?" she asked leering at him, moving in close to his face. Illya could detect the faint scent of jasmine in the air around her.

"Not really. He is dead and that is all that matters to me, he tried to murder my friend and my wi.."Illya stopped himself short.

"Wife?" she grinned, "so the rumours are true? Hhmm, perhaps I need to rethink my revenge? Yes, I may let you live, a disfigured cripple dealing with the death of your wife, knowing that it was your fault she died. You will suffer as I have suffered! You will be the impetus of my revenge against you but she the target." Astarte laughed at her own sick plan.

"Astarte, I have no compunction against killing a woman, I warn you." Illya said as he fought back his pain."

"You are hardly in a position to make threats." she said as she withdrew one of the pokers from the brazier. She drifted it first in front of Napoleon's face; the heat of it forcing him to turn his face away, squeezing his eyes shut in anticipation of the agony it would create against his skin.

Astarte moved it past him, holding it now in front of the Russian who remained defiantly immobile, his breath dispersing the smoky heat through the air as it rose from the burning red hot poker in front of his face.

She lowered it, suddenly jabbing it into Illya's breast, then down to his thigh. He resisted for a moment, trembling, then broke out instantly into a pouring sweat as he finally could no longer withhold his scream.

"That's better," she smiled as she repeated the action several more times until Kuryakin passed out.

She replaced the iron rod back into the brazier, removing the other. Then Astarte turned her attention back to Napoleon. " And you, " she smiled, "you are going to suffer as well...no man spurns me!"

"Well if you give me a chance, I can remedy that?" Napoleon offered.

"I think not." she smiled as she jabbed the burning poker to Napoleon's thigh.

Napoleon lifted his head, grimacing as the hot metal touched him; the smell of burning flesh filling the air again.

"I think my face and body will be the last things ever seen by your eyes Napoleon Solo. You will regret that you rejected me."

"If thine eye offends thee then pluck it out" he quoted the bible, though the action was meant to be more of a spiritual one but in this case he was telling her to do her worst. His lack of fear infuriated her.

She raised her arm readying to vent her anger and drive the tip of the poker into his face.

"STOP!" Stavros hissed as he entered the room. "I told you to control yourself didn't I Astarte?" He grabbed her by the arm, pulling her away from Solo.

"We are ready to leave to test the solar cannon. I want Mr. Solo and Mr. Kuryakin alive to witness the demonstration. Then you may play with them again as my little gift to you, but they must not be killed. I want them alive enough to be sent back to U.N.C.L.E. to attest to the existence and power of Thrush's new weapon."

Astarte whined, throwing a minor temper tantrum from being momentarily deprived of her torture session.

"Now now my dear." Stronghilos grabbed her by the throat. "That isn't becoming of such a beauty as you, really if you are going to get good at this you mush learn to control your emotions. Torture and revenge are both best severed when dealt with coldness and sterility." He let her go without further thought.

Stronghilos' minions took Kuryakins unconscious body from the wall first, whether he had really been conscious and just feigning or if he had suddenly come to; it was hard to tell as he lashed out with his legs, kicking himself free of their grasp. He spun into a round house kick sending one back near Napoleon who grabbed the man in a scissor hold with his legs, trying to hold the man off from his partner.

Astarte lashed out at Kuryakin with her stiletto, bringing him down with a shallow stab of the blade to his side. He dropped to his knees, then fell forward holding himself up with one hand while he grabbed his wound with the other.

Astarte shoved him with her foot, pushing the wounded Russian collapsing to the floor.

Napoleon released the man he held with his legs, realizing the futility of continuing.

The guards undid the shackles from his wrists, he pulled himself gently from their grip, "Please, let me help my friend? I'll behave, scouts honor."

Astarte nodded her approval while the guards aimed their weapons at the two agents.

Napoleon knelt beside his partner, rolling him over gently, then pulling him up to a sitting position; he looked quickly at the blossom of red that stained the remnants of Illya's shirt.

He pulled one of Illya's arms over his shoulder, hiking him up to his unsteady feet. "Come on buddy, alley oop!" Gotta go."

Illya lifted his head weakly, then signalled to his partner with a wink.

"Astarte, Stavros said he wanted us alive. If I don't get something to stop this bleeding, then Kuryakin is in trouble."

Astarte left them with the guards for a moment, returning with a towel, throwing it at Napoleon. He grabbed it before it hit him in the face then tore the cloth, tying the ends together then he wrapped it tightly around Illya's waist.

"Come on tovarisch, let's get moving before the bitch does something else." He hoisted Illya up from the floor with a grunt, supporting his slightly built friend as they walked between the two guards. When they reached the court yard. Illya was pulled from his partner's arms, then both the agents hands were cuffed behind their backs.

Astarte Lovely huffed her dissatisfaction, much preferring that Illya Kuryakin were permitted to die, but knew that Stavros would be very cross if that happened. And she knew better than to make Stavros Stronghilos angry with her.

They were lead out a side door from the court yard then loaded into a jeep that was parked behind the villa, leading to narrow road that spiralled down the cliff and across the island.

Their destination Napoleon overheard was Akrotiri nearly 10km. away from Firostefani. But given the conditions of the roads, the traffic of motorbikes and herders with their live stock, the trip was going to take nearly a half hour.

Though they were farther inland, the wind was still quite strong, and Napoleon continued to glance over his partner long blond hair was blowing wildly as his head bobbed forwards against his chest as the jeep moved along the uneven surface of the road.

He wasn't sure if Illya was unconscious or asleep, as the latter he would often do in a car, even under the most dire of circumstances, and this to Solo was beginning to look like one of them. Though his partner had said to trust him; he hoped that Illya had something up his sleeve.

The landscape was not much to look at as the jeep rumbled along. There were miles and miles of grapes growing as far as the eye could see, but not in the traditional sense in arbors, but growing low to the ground in baskets which were actually made up of the stems and stalks themselves. As Napoleon stared out at them, he wished he had a glass of that Santorini wine and was sitting on a terrace enjoying the view of the aqua blue ocean.

He looked over again at Illya as his head still bobbed with the swaying of the jeep, hoping he was alright. At last the vehicle entered a small village, but it was not the Akrotiri that Napoleon expected; it was a the actual village Akrotiri, off the beaten track from the busy archaeological dig of the Minoan site of the same name. The jeep was driven along a spiraling road that circled up and around the base of a rocky hill.

Except for a few old kerchiefed women sitting involved with their daily work in front of their homes, there was no one else to be seen, as most of the residents worked across the island.

Akrotiri was a town that had originally been located at the top of a hill, the site of an ancient medieval goulas_ fortress that had been all but destroyed in a large earthquake in 1956. The town was abandoned and a new one rebuilt, this time at the base of the hill. No one apparently went up to the ruins of the fortress as it was too dangerous.

They drove slowly through the village, coming to a halt at the base of the stony rise, from there they would travel by foot up to the ruins.

Stronghilos snapped his fingers, saying nothing as his men pulled the agents from the vehicle. Illya looked up at Napoleon, not appearing as well as his partner had hoped but the brightness of his blue-eyes and another wink told Napoleon the Russian was okay and was up to something.

He watched as Astarte, not to be deprived of her revenge, kick Illya behind the knee, sending him stumbling face down to the rocky ground, unable to catch himself with his hands cuffed behind his back.

"That was clumsy of you Kuryakin," she laughed. One of the guards pulled him to his feet, this time there was blood on his cheekbone and chin from where he had stuck the rocks.

They reached the center of the dark terracotta colored ruins, some of it remained intact, the outer walls and small buildings, but most of it had collapsed onto itself. In the center of a small plaza was something fairly large covered with a canvas tarp.

Stavros gestured for the two agents to be seated on a small wall, while he uncovered the weapon. It was impressive, larger than Napoleon had first imagined in his mind's eye, each side it had ten triangular panes of highly polished crystal fitted together seamlessly, it resembled a double-pointed top and was mounted on a support that allowed it to pivot in place.

"Now gentlemen you will witness possibly the most powerful man made weapon next to the atomic bomb, but unlike the A-bomb, this can be targeted precisely at specific targets. The coordinates need just to be calculated and set on the Antikythera, then once the mechanism is activated the crystal will absorb the power of the great Apollo himself!"

* MFU "The Gazebo Maze Affair" ** ref "THe Summit Affair"


	7. Chapter 7

The doctor attached the mechanism to a small square opening in the side of the weapon and laughed maniacally to himself, as it fit perfectly.

"And then the target will be annihilated without any damage done to it's surroundings. Now I wonder...what shall my first target be for our little test?" He stood, rubbing his scar with his thumb again, then pointed his index finger in the air. "Ah yes what better target but the birthplace of democracy, the city of Athens. It will signal the beginning of the end for democracy and the birth of Thrush's domination of the world!" He laughed aloud again, amused at the irony.

Napoleon looked left to his partner seated next to him; the Russian was struggling slightly and suddenly slumped over, leaning against him, as he seemed to barely have the strength to hold himself upright.

Then Napoleon felt it, Illyas hand touching his; shoving something into his fingers. He discerned from the the shape of it that it was a loc pic...the sly Russian must have had it secreted away in the back of his trousers.

Stavros continued fussing with the Antikythera, adjusting the settings and unaware of the two now free agents nodding to each other as they sprang from where they were seated, diving towards their guards and tackling them. They wrestled, getting in punches and being punched.

Stronghilos hurried in panic as he continued to adjust his settings, not willing to chance his plan being foiled.

One guard was on top of Napoleon, sitting on his chest, pummeling the agent with his fists, Illya had just dispatched the other, and flew at him, getting the man's head in a scissor lock, flipping him over to deliver a vicious chop to his throat. The Russian's eyes were drawn to the crystal cannon as it began to glow, then pulse rhythmically.

_"Ni khuya sebe_no fucking way!_" Illya cursed, shocked that his plan hadn't worked.

Stavros stepped back with a look of wicked satisfaction as the weapon powered up. "Yes!" he cried, the world will be ours!"

The solar cannon began to vibrate, shaking violently. It fired a burst of blinding white light, so bright that they all were forced to cover their eyes with their arms. Stronghilos howled with delight.

Napoleon delivered a right cross to the remaining guard, knocking him out cold, just as Astarte threw herself at Illya, screeching like a wild animal as she landed on his back, pulling out the stiletto, forcefully driving it down into the Russian and withdrawing it for a second attack.

Suddenly the ground beneath them began to sway, the solar cannon rocked violently. going out of control, this time it started firing short bursts of light in different directions as it began to rock back and forth.

"NO NO! This cannot be!" Stronghilos screamed.

The ground lurched, making the walls of the ancient fortress begin to teeter.

The death ray, pulsing and glowing pivoted in it support, completely turning around as it fired another burst of light, hitting the doctor, burning a hole completely through his chest. Stronghilos stood for just a second, with a look of complete shock in his eyes before he collapsed dead beside the device.

Napoleon grabbed the Antikythera, ripping it from the weapon and deactivating it as the earthquake continued to rock the ground beneath their feet.

Astarte screamed again as Illya staggered, trying to get the lunatic woman off his back; he turned their backs to a wall, slamming her against it several times. The ground beneath them surged and Napoleon watched as the wall behind Kuryakin and the girl collapsed backward, the momentum of the Russian shoving her against it taking the two of them with it as it fell over the rocky edge.

Napoleon fell with the next jolt, and as the as the aftershocks ended he pulled himself up, running to the spot where Illya had disappeared.

"ILLYA!" He yelled, not seeing him amidst the clouds of dust below.

"Illya?" he called again in disbelief, thinking his partner was gone.

The dust began to settle, and he heard a moan coming from below.

"Illya?"

He spotted the blond head sticking out from the the rubble, and climbed down carefully while bits of debris scattered from beneath his feet, sending them cascading down.

He found the Russian as he lay on his back, realizing the body of Astarte was beneath him and had broken his fall. He felt Illyas neck with a shaking hand for a pulse...he was alive.

Napoleon slapped his partner lightly on his dust covered cheek, "Illya, buddy wake up?"

The Russian looked at him a little cross-eyed."Mmmm Napoelon? Did you stop it?"

"Yes, come on _tovarisch_, we gotta get you out of here."

The cuts on Illyas face and other wounds were bleeding again, as Napoleon removed the chunks of stone and brick to free him.

"Can you move? You have any pain?'

Illya said nothing until Napoleon tried to lift him up and that was when he let out a yelp.

"_Sto_i...stop," He breathed heavily as he spoke, "it is my back, move slowly"

Napoleon supported Illya lifting him forward. Then he looked behind the Russian, protruding up near his scapula through his trapezius muscle was Astarte's stiletto.

"It's her knife_ tovarisch_."

"Take it out," Illya groaned.

"But..."

"Just do it."

Napoleon pulled off his jacket first, ripping the linen apart as he knew he'd need a bandage and bit his lip as he pulled the narrow blade from beneath the Russian's skin.

Illya grimaced, sucking in air between his teeth as the knife slipped free, it was not deep wound, nor life threatening that Napoleon could see as he wrapped the cloth around it, tying it off under the arm.

"Easy," Illya cautioned, "I think there may be some broken ribs as well."

Napoleon looked down the hill, realizing it would be easier to go up then down, and helped his friend to his feet, supporting him as they climbed back to the top.

Once reaching the ruins of the plaza Napoleon set Illya down on the ground to rest. Kuryakin looked with dismay over at the weapon laying on its side, seemingly intact.

"It has to be destroyed Napoleon." he concluded, "here, take this."

He flipped open the heel of one on one of his shoes, withdrawing a grey ball of plastique, handing it to his partner.

Napoleon took the explosive solemnly, knowing that Illya was not happy about having to destroy a rare antiquity, but the reality was, it was too dangerous.

"So this was your plan? A little vague wasn't it?" He smiled jokingly.

"No it was not." Illya opened the other heel, taking out a small bronze gear wheel., " I had dissected the Antikythera and removed this piece." He held it up to the light between his thumb and index finger.

"It was the only one different from their other parts, inscribed on it is the image of the sun and the ancient Greek word for power. I presumed that it was instrumental to the workings of the cannon, and assumed wrongly that the piece having been removed, would prevent it from powering up."

"Well I think it did something to it, Stavros was upset that it seemed to be misfiring. It definitely wasn't working the way he had anticipated...do you think it might have triggered the earthquake?"

Illya shrugged, wincing in a moment of pain, "It seemed terribly coincidental? One wonders if the activation of this device was what may have precluded the earthquake and subsequent wave that engulphed Atlantis?"

Napoleon smiled, "You and your Atlantis myth. Well I guess we'll never know? Let's hope that it didn't hit Athens, but since that remains to be seen, let's blow this thing and get out of here, you need medical treatment my friend."

"You are correct on one count Napoleon, but I will be fine." Illya insisted as he hiked himself up to help. His partner ordered him to sit again, and he complied without argument, feeling worse than he was willing to admit. As he sat, he peered over the ledge realizing that the body of Astarte was gone.

"Napoleon, I am afraid Astarte was not quite as dead as you thought she was."

"What?"

"She is gone."

Solo shook his head in disgust. "All the more reason for us to get rid of this thing." he said, turning his attention back to the weapon, dividing the plastique into smaller portions, placing them at different spots on the weapon, then set the timer with his watch and stepped back.

"5-4-3-2-1," he counted down; there was a hiss and smoke. The crystals began to crack, crumbling; the shattered pieces falling to the ground, leaving nothing but the skeleton of a frame. Napoleon then picked up one of the guard's rifles smashing that part of the cannon as well.

Illya stared at the Antikythera that lay on the ground beside him. He picked up a rock, raising it in his hand to bring it down on the precious antiquity.

Suddenly he felt Napoleon grabbing his wrist, stopping him.

"No, it's useless now without the crystal cannon. Let it stay intact as an astrological computer and nothing more. We'll give it back to Hektor and Spyros."

"Thank you Napoleon, " Illya sighed, " that makes me feel better; I was torn over destroying it."

Solo helped his partner to his feet. "But you were ready to do what had to be done, and that's what counts enh. partner mine?" He smiled.

They returned to the jeep, finding a radio under the dashboard; allowing them to contact the Nereid Thetis. Much to their relief, they found out from Hektor that Athens was unharmed. They were still anchored in the port off Fira.

The lights from the cannon were somehow perceived as lightning and related to the earthquake and a minor eruption of Palea Kameni, the old volcano in the center of the caldera as it spewed forth sulphurous steam.

"Well that covers us for a good explanation," Napoleon sighed in relief. "Can you hang in for a trip back to Sronghilos' villa, our communicators are there and I think we need to report in on this to the old man?'

Illya nodded quietly, not uttering a complaint, holding his side while the bumpy ride jostled him as the Antikythera lay safely in his lap.

They arrived at the villa, Napoleon located their pens while Illya nosed about Stronghilos' workroom.

"There will be useful information in these," he said, pointing to the computers. He grabbed a pack of ciagarettes he saw lying on one of the desks, a Turkish brand and that surprised him given the political discord the countries of Greece and Turkey. Illya pulled one out, lighting it and taking a long drag on it, then he coughed hard, grabbing his side. He decided that wasn't a good idea, and not finding an ashtray, he extinguished the butt on the sole of his shoe.

Napoleon walked into the room waving their two communicators at his partner. "Open Channel D overseas relay and scramble please, "he spoke into one of them.

"Mr. Solo, I was becoming a bit concerned, what have you to report?"

"Sir, the Antikythera was apparently a controlling mechanism for an ancient Greek solar powered laser, sort of a death ray. Dr. Stronghilos and his cohorts have been dispatched and the laser has been destroyed, but not before it was fired, targeting the city of Athens. Apparently it missed, not firing as Stronghilos had planned, since Mr. Kuryakin made some, shall we say, minor adjustments to the device."

"The Antikythera is intact, except for one gear that he removed." Napoleon hesitated, " it's a legitimate piece of Greek history and is virtually useless as a control for a weapon that no longer exists. Mr. Kuryakin has informed me that it is still an astronomical calendar after all and of great archaeological importance. Might it be possible for us to return it to Mr. Michaelides and Mr. Giannopolous? It was after all their find."

There was a moment of silence at the other end, then Waverly made his pronouncement. "Though it is a valuable antiquity, it is still related to a very dangerous weapon. Our scanners picked up the powerful beams emitted by it, they landed at coordinates located in the Aegean at a distance of approximately 400 km. away from your location. Luckily there were no land masses in the vicinity, so no apparent harm has been done."

"The potential still exists for the mechanism to be used by Thrush, if in the event they were to develop their own version of the this death ray device. I am afraid we need to hang onto it for safe keeping. I will be sending in a cleanup team from our office in Rome to gather Stonghilos' belongings. You however, should keep the mechanism in your possession for safe-keeping. I expect you to bring it to New York upon your and Mr. Kuryakins return. How are you both physically, any injuries?"

"Mr. Kuryakin needs some attention, nothing major though."

"Why does that not surprise me, that young man seems to be quite injury prone? Very well then, I will see you for your debrief upon your return and no dawdling Mr. Solo."

"I understand sir, thank you. Solo out."

"Well that settles that." Illya said, "Perhaps someday when the world is rid of Thrush and their ilk; the Antikythera can be rediscovered?"

"Why Illya Kuryakin, that's rather optimistic of you?"

"Shhsush." the Russian smiled, "do not let that get out, it would not be good for my reputation."

Napoleon managed a little first aid on his partner, having found supplies and bandages in the villa, then the two made their way slowly down the cliff to the dock, having made arrangements for Aeneas to meet them there.

_"Geiá sou! Ky'rios Solo! Eímai tóso eftychis pou sa kai Ky'rios Nickó_hello! Mister Solo! I am glad that you and Mister Nicko are alright,_" the young man called enthusiastically to them from the dingy.

_"Schedón ectáxei_almost alright,_" Illya answered as he walked down the stone stairs of the dock, stepping gingerly across to the boat, holding his arm to his injured side.

_"Eíste kakó Ky'rios Nickó_you are hurt Mister Nickó?_"

_"Tha éinai me chará Aineías_ I will be fine Aeneas." _He then looked at Napoleon's blood-stained shirt,"We will both be fine, thank you."

Once on board the Nereid Thetis it was decided they would sail to Thessaloniki to return to the airport there. Waverly had ordered a private jet to pick them up, from there they would stop over in Rome for a debrief with the agent-in-charge for the clean up, then finally on to New York and back to the real world.

There had been no contact with home while on the mission, and both agents had driven the thought from their heads that Napoleon was due to be married soon. They were below deck cleaning themselves up, checking their wounds while trying to bring down the adrenaline levels.

Illya lay on the bunk stripped down to his shorts as Aeneas, who was studying to be a doctor, examined him, both agents humoring the young man. They could have seen to their own care, but thought it good to let Aeneas feel useful as all he had done was ferry everyone back and forth in the dingy during the course of their assignment.

Illya's wounds were cleaned, bandaged and stitched with a skilled hand, then treated with an antibiotic injection, luckily his ribs were only bruised and not broken. Aeneas, being quite clever managed to give the Russian a shot of morphine before he could protest, knowing what was best for him was a painless sleep.

Napoleon's injuries were small by comparison and needed only cleaning and bandaging and once that was taken care of, Aeneas left the agents alone.

Illya's eyelids were beginning to droop, even though he was fighting it. "You do remember, " Kuryakin said sleepily, " that your wedding is nearly two weeks away?" That question brought Napoleon back to reality.

"I know. I was trying not to think about it as there had been other things on my mind." he chuckled. " saving the world takes a bit of concentration.

Illya yawned, fighting back the effects of the morphine that was giving him a pleasant buzz, one that he could not control in spite of his best efforts. He hated such medication, but at the moment he could do nothing but enjoy the euphoria it had now induced.

He reminded himself to have a talk with Aeneas about his bedside manner and sneaking an injection to an unsuspecting patient.

"My wife will not be pleased," he said to Napoleon as he pointed to the visible cuts and bruises on his cheek and chin, " perhaps this will be healed before your nuptials. Bella howevver, will be happy, at leasst your face iss not..."he never finished the sentence as the morphine had finally kicked in.

Napoleon smiled, shaking his head at the snoring Russian. He paraphrased the words to an old Welsh song as he drew a sheet over Illya. "Sleep my friend and peace attend thee all through the night." He brushed his hand softly through the blond hair, knowing it was only possible when his friend was out cold from drugs.

Solo was feeling restless and decided to go up on deck. There were things on his mind, such as the fact that Astarte Lovely had escaped. He hoped she wouldn't continue in her vendetta against Kuryakin, but unfortunately he had a feeling she'd be back to haunt them, and UNCLE. He had doubts the clean up team would find her and suspected she had already mader her escape from Sontorini.

The issue of the Antikythera bothered him and he wished like Illya, that it could be returned to its finders; he hadn't given Hektor and Spyros the news yet and wasn't looking forward to doing so as he was sure they'd be upset.

The waters were a bit choppy making Solo glad that Illya was asleep rather than having to deal with being seasick.

He took over the helm for a bit, letting the power and freedom of the wind in the sails renew his spirits. Hektor stood beside him, gazing out to the water in a silent mood. He had seen Napoleon carrying the Antikythera with him when he boarded the boat, but was hesitant to ask him about it's disposition.

"Napoleon, the device...will you be giving it back to us?"

He sighed before answering, not happy about what he had to say, as he like Illya believed the piece belonged in a museum after all, the Greeks had said it was a national treasue.

Hektor watched the American agent's reaction to his question.

_"Aftó eínai entáxei o filos mou. Katalav_aíno_that is alright my friend. I understand."

_"Sas efcharistó_ thank you_. I appreciate that, maybe someday it will can be returned to you, but right now it's too dangerous, or so say the powers that be."

The winds began to pick up more as off in the horizon the sky was beginning to darken.

"Looks like we may have a storm my friend," Hektor said as he slapped Napoleon firmly on the back, "You are all right to handle this yes?"

Napoleon smiled at him, remembering the many times he'd been out alone in some powerful squalls on his own 30 ft. yacht, the Pursang.

He piloted the Thetis to the northern end of the island when his communicator sounded. It was an emergency alert signal. Hektor grabbed the wheel, taking over for Napoleon as he pulled the pen from his pocket.

"Solo here."

Waverly's voice was anxious as he responded.

"Mr. Solo we have detected strong seismic activity in the area near where the energy beam from the weapon struck. It registered 7.5 on the Richter scale, with continuing after shocks. There is now the possibility of a dangerous tsnumai heading in your direction. The authorities have been notified in an estimated 400 km. radius."

It was too late as Napoleon looked to the port side of the boat; there was a huge wave hurtling towards them. He spun the helm, trying to steer the Thetis straight into it, but there wasn't enough time.

The wave slammed broadside into the Nereid Thetis, sending her over to her side as she began to founder. They were all were thrown across the deck and into the sea, driven down by the impact and immense power.

Napoleon was dragged beneath the water, holding what breath he could until his lungs felt as though they were ready to explode. He struggled, kicking and paddling to regain the surface, until his head shot up through the water. He gasped heavily and began to nervously tread water as he looked about searching for the others. He hated being in the water, and oxymoron since he loved sailing...

Suddenly there was a flash of lightning, and the skies opened up sending down torrential rains. Winds blew the sea wildly and the thunder rolled like the beating of ancient drums in the heavens above him.

Several hundred years away Spyros and Aeneas waved as they fought against the sea, swimming towards him. Hektor's head surfaced beside him, bobbing up and down in the waves as he tried to keep himself beside the American.

Napoleon suddenly realized there was no sign of Illya. He turned his head back and forth in a panic, searching for any sign of the Russian.

"Shit!...ILLYA!" He called. "ILLYA!" There was no sign, nothing. Napoleon dove below the water, desperately searching for the boat, thinking his friend might still be trapped inside, there could be a pocket of air?" He and the others dove again and again, but the wave and the storm had churned up the sea bottom, making it impossible to see now in the once crystal clear water.

He dove one last time with dogged determination, but without success."Illya, oh Jesus?" Je whispered his friends name one last time.

"_Éla_come on_!" Hektor called, " we must go!"

The four of them stayed together, grabbing onto remnants of the Thetis' mast and swam for the north shore of the island nearly a mile away. They crawled out of the water amid the debris left from the backwash of the wave, collapsing in the gravelly black sand, heaving to catch their breath.

"See Zeus's anger subsides, " Spyros said pointing to the sky.

It was still dark in the distance as lightning bolts streaked across like wretched fingers. The storm was blowing off now and people who had retreated away from the beach when warned of the wave came out to help Solo and the others, bringing them towels and glasses of ouzo.

.

Illya was having a wonderful dream about his red-headed wife Elliott' they were in a garden on a sunny day with a picnic basket and blanket spread out, there was the laughter of children surrounding them...children. Another child was on the way. He smiled, but he could only see a blond head and a red head playing together. The new child would have red hair...but was it a boy or a girl, he could not tell?

Illya was ripped from his bliss as he was thrown violently from the bunk to to the ceiling of the cabin. He opened his eyes for a brief moment, but then felt a sharp pain in his head and passed out. When he awoke he was in total darkness, confused as to what had happened and couldn't get his bearings. Illya stumbled forward...in water. It was rising quickly, rushing from his ankles to his knees in seconds, soon it was up to his thighs. The Thetis was sinking and he needed to get out now.

The water level was to his chest when he finally found the hatch; he took a deep breath, swimming out. The water was murky and clouded, making it difficult to see. He felt a momentary panic not knowing which was was up, but took his best guess as to which direction it was. If Illya guessed wrong; he would drown.

His lungs began to strain as he searched for the surface, the momentum of his paddling finally propelling him through the water, breaking through to the top as he gasped for air. He shook his hair from his eyes, while the fierce waves slapped against him, stinging his skin. There was no sign of Napoleon or the others, but he called out for them anyway.

The morphine still in his system seemed to sap all his energy, making it difficult for him to stay afloat in the water. He could see the shoreline of the island and began to swim for it, but soon found himself in trouble. Illya was a very strong swimmer, but the combination of the drugs, the blood loss and the injury to his shoulder worked against him. He became exhausted, not even having the strength to tread water; he started to go under.

Illya Kuryakin took his last breath of air as he slipped quietly under the waves, clearing his head of all thoughts as he prepared himself for the end. He could hold his breath no longer as water began to enter his lungs. He closed his eyes, but then he felt a something bump against him, startling them open again.

He felt air against his face as he was pushed to the surface...then heard the squeals and clicks of a dolphin. The creature maintained contact with the Russian, keeping him from sinking back to the depths.

Kuryakin wrapped one of his arms around the mammal, grabbing hold of it's dorsal fin as it glided through the water. It was taking him towards the beach."

He could not believe the miracle that was happening to him and uttered a few words of thanks in Russian.

"_Spacibo Bogu za sozdani takogo prekrasnogo sushchesta_thank you God for creating such a wonderful creature."_

He held onto the dolphin as it brought him closer to shore, releasing his hold when he could feel the rocky bottom beneath his feet. He turned in the water facing the animal, speaking to it softly in Greek as he rubbed his hand to it's nose.

"A_n ídios o Poseidónas pou steílate, tóte tha prosférei tis efcharistíes niy pros ton ídio kai eseís o filos mou_ if Poseidon himself sent you, then I offer my thanks to him and you my friend."_

The dolphin swam off, then shot up out of the water splashing it's tail; it appeared to dance on the water as it moved backwards away from the Russian and then disappeared as it dove into the Aegean.

He could see a small crowd gathered at the other end of the beach, and guessing by the color of the strand being black that he was at Baksedes at the northern end of the island. Illya walked slowly towards them, his feet crunching on the small volcanic pebbles beneath them.

There were a few men wrapped in towels sitting down surrounded by helpful locals as well as debris that must have washed up during the storm...wicker chairs, destroyed beach umbrellas, bits of clothing and driftwood were scattered everywhere.

As he got closer; he was pleased to see that it was Napoleon and the Greeks.

"Fine." There was a caustic tone to his voice as he walked up behind his partner, "leave me to drown after taking the trouble to save me at the fortress, he clicked his tongue jokingly, "you are a conundrum Napoleon Solo."

Napoleon looked up, smiling at the sight of his partner standing there in his briefs.

"Tovarisch!" He pushed himself up, grabbing the Russian in a bear hug.

"Napoleon I am alright...I am fine!" Illya laughed.

"Well I didn't think you were, I thought I'd lost you."

"I am like a bad penny; I keep turning up."

"No, never a bad penny my friend."

Napoleon finally released him, stepping back looking at his skinny partner, beat up bloody and scarred standing there is his clinging wet briefs.

"New look?"

"Yes," he smiled, "I believe it is called tighty-whities?"

"Well I think the wet look is a little bit revealing? He said tossing his towel to the Russian.

Napoleon laughed, shaking his head; amazed and relieved they had both cheated death again.

"Come my friend, " Illya hid his smile, " time to go home."

Napoleon placed his hand on his friend's uninjured shoulder and together they and the Greeks walked the distance to the town of Oia, around 3 km. away where they managed to get a taxi to take them back to Firostefani. The UNCLE clean-up crew had arrived at Stronghilos' villa and they'd hitch a ride with them to the Rome office.

There was no sign of Astarte and Napoleon surmised that she was already long gone and headed who knew where. He was sure they'd not seen the last of her.

Illya scrounged some of Stonghilos' clothing for the trip, and finally he and Napoleon said their good byes to Hektor, Spyros and Aeneas.

_"Frontízoume tous fílous mo_take care my friends,_ " Hektor said as he gave the agents a fierce hug and kisses on each cheek." It is a shame the Antikythera was lost, but at least we are all still alive to remember the tale. Perhaps a new Greek legend will be born?"

_"A nai,"_ Illya said, _"Échei epistrépsei stin archaía Átlantes_ ah yes, it has returned to the ancient Atlanteans who made it and that is perhaps where it best belongs, in their care."_

_._

_To télos_finis_

_._

author's note: special thanks to Avery for convincing me not to kill off Astarte, to laurose for loving the dolphins and to jkkitty for her enthusiasm and suggestions.


End file.
